Mountains and Molehills

[dalehead]

Title : Mountains and Molehills
Author: dalehead
Pairing : VigBeanl
Rating : Suitable for all
Summary : Love invariably finds a way
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
Author’s Note: This for those who “find contentment in the companionship of the mountains and of the creatures of the mountains". The quote is from AW himself.



“Ahhhh Sean,” Viggo couldn’t help smiling. “At last, you wanna pint?”

“Nah, sorry mate, I’m on call,” Sean smiled back as if he and Viggo hadn’t woken up that morning pressed as closely together as it was possible for two bodies to be. As if they hadn't just had this conversation only half an hour before.

“Oh .. of course.” The smile faded. “Again?”

“C’mon Vig,” there was a frown on Sean’s face, but his voice stayed calm. This was an old, old argument and one it would appear, he didn’t want to have again.

“C’mon Vig what? It’s Christmas Eve...”

“And you think that means no fucker’s gonna get into trouble.”

“10p into the Swear Box,” Annie the barmaid chimed in.

Her interruption broke the tension as both men begun to laugh. Viggo picked up their drinks and took them over to a table, tucked away in a corner.

“We’re still on for Christmas dinner?" Why did he sound so needy, so insecure.

Sean looked surprised. “Of course, we’re cooking it together, remember?”

“I just wanted to be sure.” Now he sounded defensive. Was he going to drive Sean away with his constant need for reassurance. He’d never been like this with a man before but then he’d never met anyone like Sean before. It had not been the most auspicious of beginnings.

~~

“Morning...” Viggo’s eyes were almost out on stalks when he saw the blond guy peel his tee shirt off to reveal a muscular frame coupled with deeply tanned skin. He realised his mouth was hanging open.

“All right,” the blond god nodded and turned his attention to his quad bike. It was a hot day and the sheep dog sat patiently in the only bit of shade she could find. She eyed Viggo, then settled down for a nap. From her experience, it was going to be some time.

“Shouldn’t your dog be on a lead?” Viggo asked as much because he didn’t want to move on as anything else. It was a long time since he’d felt so attracted to anyone.

“She’s a sheep dog,” the blond god looked up and there might have been a twinkle in his eye. “We’re taking a salt lick to the ewes,” he looked at his bike. “Well we were going to but this bloody thing keeps going wrong, fuck knows what’s up with it this time...” he sighed.

“Oh...” Viggo felt a bit foolish. “My name’s Viggo by the way, I’m...”

“You’re the artist who’s moved into Holly Cottage, you’re American right?”

“Um, yes.” Unused to life in a small community, Viggo was constantly surprised by the way everyone seemed to know everything about everyone.

“Not that it’s a cottage, it’s a bit of a barn and a bugger to keep warm in the winter,” the blond god spoke with great satisfaction. “If we get a cold one, you’ll find yourself living in the kitchen. If you’re still here, I can lend you an old tin bath...” His smile made Viggo’s stomach turn over. “I’m Sean by the way.”

“Good to meet you Sean,” Viggo held his hand out. He was not surprised to find Sean had quite a grip on him, his hand lay warm and dry in his and he didn’t want to let it go.

“I live in one of the farm cottages, just down from you, mine’s the one with the old car in pieces in the garden.”

“What used to be a garden you mean.”

Sean laughed. “One day, I’ll be able to afford all the spare parts to put it back together, if I can’t the Parish Council will force me to find another home for it...”

“I’ve got a spare garage if you like...” Bingo.

“Really?” Sean stared at him. “Well...” he was thinking hard. “Are you sure? You don’t even know me.”

“Well no, but I recognise a Ford Capri when I see one.”

“You … what ….”

“I was in London in the late seventies, I drove a Capri while I was at the Slade.”

“Oh well … in that case, yes please,” Sean already knew Viggo had done a degree in London, he also knew why Viggo had come to live here. This was a small village but everyone had access to the world wide web.

“Great, well drop round anytime,” Viggo knew it was time to move on.

“Where are you heading?”

“I’m off to Sergeant Mann.”

“Good stuff,” Sean looked up. “I hope you’ve got something warm to put on in case the weather changes.”

“Oh yes, I’ve got my mobile phone, a sweater, some pants and waterproofs,” Viggo was used to mountain weather. “I’ve walk a lot in the States.”

Sean nodded again. He turned his attention back to his bike and Viggo moved off. It was a beautiful day and he had his camera with him, was hoping to get some good shots. By the time he turned around to look at the view, Sean, the bike and the dog were lost in the scenery. With a sigh he turned his attention to the path ahead of him.

It was a beautiful day although cold on the tops. It was only May after all but Viggo was expecting that. With the help of his Wainwright, the guide book that was a bible to generations of walker, he was able to identify the view, marking out St Sunday Crag, the Crinkles and Bowfell. His heart swelled with joy. He was going to enjoy living here with all this beauty on his doorstep, walking in the footsteps of literary giants. Standing around taking pictures, he was grateful for his extra clothes, he was beginning to feel chilled. He would soon warm up once he got going again. The path down was well marked, many feet had trodden over it and this was to be his undoing. He was only a couple of miles from home when he put his foot down on a rock that gave way under him.

He only slid down a few feet but it was enough to well and truly twist his ankle. He sat still for a few moments, feeling a little sick, then he stood. The moment he put any weight on it, it became apparent he was going nowhere. Viggo had a well developed imagination and his first thought was simple. “I’m going to die up here all alone,” he said out loud.

The moment he spoke the words he knew he was being melodramatic. He had his mobile of course. Taking off his backpack, he made himself comfortable and switched it on.

There was no signal.

With shaking hands, he put the phone back. Now what? He didn’t even have time to panic.

“Hello?” He heard a woman’s voice.

Looking up, he saw a woman and a small boy walking towards him.

“Are you okay?” she asked and a moment later a bouncy terrier was jumping all over him. “Leave him, Fred,” she tried to call the dog off. Fred paid no attention.

“I’ve twisted my ankle and my mobile doesn’t work...” Viggo’s fears receded. This was the Lake District and it was half term; there were tourists everywhere. It was unlikely he would have remained undiscovered for very long. He petted Fred who soon lost interest when he realised there wasn’t anything to eat in the offing.

“We’ll go and get help,” the little boy said importantly. “Mummy? We need to fetch Uncle Sean.”

“Uncle Sean?” Viggo’s heart sank.

“He’s part of the mountain rescue,” the woman smiled. “Yes Edward, we’ll got and fetch him and daddy too,” she looked at Viggo. “Will you be okay here on your own while we go back, I’ll be able to get a signal a bit further down,” she waved her phone at him.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” except for the embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm him.

“We’ll be as quick as we can,” the woman whistled. “C’mon Fred,” the dog trotted over to her and they turned back, moving quicker than Viggo would have thought possible, walking with an ease of the scree. They were soon lost to sight in the fading light.

It was a long wait. At least it felt like a long wait, the temperature was cooling quickly and by the time Viggo saw lights bobbing along in the distance, he was cold and feeling a bit sick. He no longer cared if the blond god saw him in this state. He just wanted to get off the hillside, get home.

The first person who reached him was Sean’s dog. She came up to him, all wagging tail, barking excitedly. Viggo could hear the men behind her calling.

“Viggo...” Sean was the first man up, he knelt by Viggo’s side. “Did you hit your head?””

“I slipped, hurt my ankle,” Sean flashed a torchlight over him. “I think it might be broken,” he added sheepishly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you down,” the smile on Sean’s lips almost made Viggo forget the pain, almost. “We’ve got a stretcher...”

“But …”

“No Vig,” Sean shook his head as the rest of the team joined them. “It’s the safest way of getting you down, safe for you and safe for us.” He petted the dog’s head. “Well done, Jess.”

Another box ticked. Viggo loved dogs and he loved other people to love them too.

Of the journey down, Viggo remembered very little. His ankle was indeed broken and once the mountain rescue team reached him, it was as if his brain allowed him to register that actually he was in agony. Any embarrassment at being on a stretcher was soon forgotten, every time they jolted him, his ankle throbbed. He was pale and clammy by the time they got down.

“Thank you Sean,” reaching for his hand, Viggo found it was as he remembered it, warm and dry. “Thank you for rescuing me,” he was feeling a bit tearful.

“Buy me a pint when you’re better,” Sean crouched down so no one else could hear them. The rest of the team were getting the Land Rover backed up, ready to take Viggo to hospital.

“Come to dinner,” Viggo whispered, the pain helping him to throw discretion to the winds.

“I’ll do that,” Sean promised and his fingers stroked Viggo’s hand. Afterwards Viggo often wondered if he’d imagined it. But the moment passed; he was lifted into the car and born off to hospital.

It was the start of something that took a while to get going...

“Red or white?” Viggo asked. He was still hobbling, the break had been nasty. It’d taken much longer to knit than he’d hoped but finally, finally Sean was here, in his house. He’d cooked a shoulder of lamb and was serving it with potatoes dauphinoise and mange tout. He’d had to drive to Windermere, to Booth’s, to get the mange tout.

“I’d rather have beer,” Sean didn’t appear to get on with wine. It made him go a bit funny. “If that’s okay.”

“Sure...”

The evening hadn’t started very well. Viggo preferred people to take their shoes off in his house and both Sean’s socks had a huge hole in them. He’d felt an overwhelming urge to laugh until he’d seen how uncomfortable Sean was feeling. Luckily there was plenty of beer in the fridge but...

“Like pisswater this stuff,” Sean peered at the label. “You Americans don’t know how to drink beer.”

“At least we know how to chill it,” Viggo retorted.

“You don’t chill beer, you chill lager,” there was something in Sean’s voice that annoyed Viggo. He felt like Sean was laughing at him.

“Which is why I offered you wine,” his response sounded tart, even to his ears.

“Wine is for girls...”

“Excuse me,” now Viggo was getting annoyed. “It most certainly isn’t.”

“Yeah, it is, it’s for girls, real men drink beer. And I mean beer, real thick hop laden beer.”

This was a step too far for Viggo. He opened his mouth to respond.

“Vig?” Damn, now Sean was looking at him. Like that. “Vig? What do you do with a watch?”

“Um...” now his knees were feeling a bit shaky. “Tell the time?”

“You wind it up...”

The smile on Sean’s face literally took Viggo’s breath away.

“Um...” he stuttered. “Dinner? Yes?”

“Great, I’m starving...”

During the course of the meal, which didn’t go very well, Viggo learnt that Sean loved cricket and football, he had a passion for old Ford cars, he had part shares in the farm he and his brother had been brought up on and lived in one of the farm cottages. His brother was married, had a son, indeed was married to the woman who’d found Viggo after his accident.

Viggo was hooked. He told Sean about his nomadic unbringing, his divorce and his book commission, the commission that had brought him to Grasmere to walk in the footsteps of The Lake Poets. Viggo also learned that Sean did not like poncy food.

“You got any bread?”

“You don’t like the potatoes?” Couldn’t Sean try for a little grace.

“They’re okay but the meat would taste better in a sandwich, you need saddle for this kind of fancy meal.” His smile was kind though and Viggo fetched the bread, put it down and excused himself for a moment. Once out of sight he leaned against the wall. Out of the open back door, he could see the last of the birds heading home, he could hear the occasional sheep bleating and he wished the evening had panned out better. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt arms sliding around his waist.

“You didn’t need to try this hard you know, I’d have been happy with pasta...” Sean kissed the back of Viggo’s neck. “But before we start anything, I need to talk to you...”

~~~

Now eighteen months later, Viggo felt he’d gone no further. Sure they almost lived together at Sean’s cottage, although the Capri was now stored in the garage at Holly Cottage. They spent six nights of the week together, ate together, slept together, even shopped together. Sean still hated poncy food but Viggo had lowered his sights a little and learned to drink real ale.

Jess the dog had been banned from Sean’s bed, much to her and Sean’s sorrow. She slept in her own basket by the side of the bed now occupied by Viggo and Sean.

There were two problems. The first was the closet. Viggo didn’t want to hide his feelings for Sean. He loved Sean, wanted to spend the rest of his days with Sean, yet they were forced to enact this farce where everyone pretended they weren’t a couple and they didn’t share a bed.

“C’mon Sean, what’s the worse that can happen?”

“My nephew will get teased to fuck, all our neighbours will talk, I’m sorry Vig but I told you how it had to be, this isn’t London, this is a farming community, we’re farmers, we tend the land and we husband our animals, most people know we’re gay, I dunno why you have to ram it down everyone’s neck. I was quite happy being the only gay in the village.”

“But Sean, it’s so fucking antiquated, people are fighting for our rights, you and me, to be together, to be married to be equal in the eyes of the law.

Sean shrugged. “But we won’t be equal until society changes its mind and I am not prepared to be a card carrying professional gay, I love you, I want to be with you, I am with you, if you want one of them civil partnership things, we’ll do it, I don’t mind that either but I told you this right from the start, I am not Coming Out, if it means explaining to Edward what you and I do in bed.”

Viggo was so incensed. It took him all his time not to walk out. Why couldn’t Sean see how destructive this was? How they were worth more?

“I’m going to the pub,” Sean wasn’t upset. He didn’t understand Viggo, not on this point anyway. He thought it was a great deal of fuss over nothing, he stopped though when he saw the look on Viggo’s face. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, taking Viggo’s hand. “I’ll buy you a glass of wine if you like.” That made Viggo laugh and a row was thus neatly averted.

And here they were yet again, sitting in the pub, it was Christmas Eve, and Sean was on call. Viggo did understand the importance of the Mountain Rescue, after what had happened to him, he not only understood the importance but he also appreciated what they did, but he was a little tired of his disappearing boyfriend. During the season, he was called out at least once a week, often several times.

“Viggo,” Sean turned to him. “Look, I know it’s Christmas Eve but it’s only fair I do a shift then, the other guys all have kids...” he could see Viggo was upset. “I know I usually stay at Alan’s after a shift. that’s ‘cos it’s easier but tonight, if we’re called out, I’ll be coming home to you, kay?”

There was no point in arguing about it; Viggo didn’t want to argue. Despite his resentment of it, he was still proud of Sean’s commitment to saving people who found themselves on the wrong side of the fells. It was just it added to all the other resentments, like Sean’s inability to get away from work, not just because of the mountain rescue but also the farm and the elephant in the room. More than anything else there was Sean’s refusal to come out.

“All right?” the rest of the guys joined them. It was always like this. The men of the community sitting around drinking beer, Viggo was constantly astounded by the antediluvian attitude that seemed to prevail. Experience had taught him not to question it too much, it appeared that he was the only one who was, to coin a phrase, bothered...

His musings were interrupted by Annie. “Phone for you, Alan.”

Alan took the call. A woman in one of the outlying farms had gone into labour. Because of the weather, the ambulance service needed their help getting her to hospital.

“I’ve delivered enough lambs,” Sean laughed. He stood up and while everyone sorted themselves, he leaned down to give Viggo a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later,” he paused. “Wait up for me, yes?”

And then they were gone, leaving Viggo feeling both comforted and a little bit sad. Finishing his drink, he got up, wished Annie good night then slowly walked home.

Christmas Day was several hours old by the time Sean opened the back door and slipped in. Despite the lateness, he put the kettle on and sat down. Viggo who had been on the computer heard the door, came to join him.

“Braxton fucking hicks,” Sean grinned and yawned at the same time. “Thank God I’m not up for milking tomorrow.

“Would have been ironic wouldn’t it,” Viggo came over to sit in Sean’s lap. “Ouch, your hands are cold,” as Sean warmed himself with Viggo’s heat.

“Ironic? Oh ‘cos it’s Christmas?” Another yawn. “I was going to make a hot water bottle up but I don’t need one, I’ve got you.”

“Nice to know I have my uses.” Viggo replies dryly.

“You still pissed off with me?”

“No, no I’m not... it’s just...” Viggo shook his head. “It’s late, shall we go to bed?” He could almost feel the relief rolling off Sean.

“Yeah, but before we go, up on the mantelpiece, there’s a box, it’s for you.”

Viggo got up and looked, sure enough, there was a small box, the wooden box where Sean kept his paperclips and fuses, he picked it up, looked inside. Instead of paperclips, there was a ring, a ring he recognised.

“This is …”

“My granddad’s ring, it’s Welsh as it goes, he gave it to me a couple of years before he died. He knew I was gay, he said I’d know when it was time to pass it on...”

Viggo was speechless.

“I know you want me to come out but the people who matter most know what I am. I know you want me to get political about it but that’s not me, Alan and me, we’re more worried about the EU Agricultural policy.” He took a breath; Viggo knew how hard his Sean found it to talk about these things, the things that were most important to him. “The farm will stay in the family, it will go to Edward, just as it came to Alan and me through our dad. That’s what matters to me, the continuity, And you, you matter too, I love you, I know I don’t say it all the time but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel things like you.”

It occurred to Viggo that since he’d met Sean, he’d done a lot of compromising; given up smoking, relegated Jess to a basket, bought a big new fridge. It also occured to him that Alan, the rest of the people they saw on a day to day basis all took it for granted that Viggo was a part of Sean’s life. It occurred to him that although Sean wasn’t officially out, there wasn’t a soul in the village who didn’t know exactly what their situation was. He felt that feeling of complete happiness when it’s almost tangible, like he could lean over and touch it.

“Sean...” he sat down in Sean’s lap again. “Put it on me.”

Taking the ring, Sean slid it over the third finger of Viggo’s left hand. It fitted perfectly.

“I had it altered to fit you, granddad’s fingers were much bigger than yours,” Sean lifted Viggo’s hand and kissed each finger.

“I do love you,” there were tears in Viggo’s eyes.

“No need to cry, gimp,” and the words were spoken as lovingly as Viggo could have wished.

Fin!